


Medbay Ruminations

by Thevoidbetweenus



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Family Bonding, Gen, OCs - Freeform, a questionable doctor, chiss pragmatism, pre kotfe, rule breaking jedi, very vague mentions of romance but not the focus at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: Mostly a reflection/drabble-esque piece, with some family bonding between a father and a son.Before KotFE, after the events of the smuggler storyline.





	Medbay Ruminations

A heavy sigh heaved from the chest of one Picardy Inrokini, formerly known as Sez’egar’moasi. It was moments like this, when he was alone, when he was reminded of how he missed his family - not something he liked to dwell on too long, considering he had a lot of other things to worry about (especially his son, who was dead set on becoming a jedi master, if only to prove to his father that they weren’t all bad). But, in the stifling silence of his inherited starship, he knew he couldn’t avoid the thoughts today. Instead of sitting on his bed and mulling, however, he opted to clean his medbay while thinking - may as well get something done, to somewhat distract himself from the loneliness.

Kolto packs have always helped to fill the void, he mused as he clacked along to the medbay (inconveniently placed, if he did say so himself). Normal for his father not to think of something as simple as placement of the medbay - he didn’t care much for worrying, or safety, or common sense, evident from the events surrounding his death. The chiss cut himself off of that train of thought there - that was not a good path to venture down. Better to think of his mother, or his brother - not the father who had essentially abducted him (sure, to keep him safe, but still!), then died only a few years later, leaving him a “criminal empire” he had at first wholeheartedly rejected.

He silently thanked his contacts for getting him hooked up with the Republic - becoming a privateer was most certainly the best thing he had ever done, without a doubt. There was no way he could return to the Empire that had rejected his family because of one outlier. Besides, as he often tried to convince himself, the Republic was...better? That always elicited a chuckle from his “friends,” when he told them his reasons for becoming a privateer. Naive, they called him. The Republic is just as corrupt. He knew they were correct, of course.

Knew they were correct when he was stopped at every space station because “it’s rare to see chiss around here!” Knew they were correct when he went to Hoth, and one of the military officers looked him dead in the face and said, "paint my face blue and call me Chiss," smirk on his lips because he knew there was nothing Picardy could do about it.  Knew they were correct when he saw slave collars being sold on Coruscant. Knew they were correct when the nobles of the Republic could stomp all over regular folks just like in the Empire. Knew they were correct as the government, and the military continually got more corrupt - but as he cleaned his syringes, he tried to convince himself that the “Republic heroes” he saved on the battlefield were going to make a difference somewhere, to make the galaxy a better place. A fool’s dream, perhaps, but his dream nonetheless. (Although it is worth noting that one particular hero in the doctor’s life really was making such an impact...one fast talking gunslinger, whose sudden friendship was a welcome surprise. The sun had suddenly been thrust into his life.)

Of course...Picardy hated to waste his times on dreams, normally. They interfered with real life - for example, if he were to lapse into dreams on the battlefield, surely some of his patients would die. It would be foolish, and downright irresponsible, for him to allow himself the pretty release of dreams. Therefore, he rarely did.

However, as he sat alone in his starship, he permitted himself this pleasure, if for only a moment. He dreamed of life back on Csilla, with his mother still alive, being enrolled in the Imperial army along with his brother, Mist’anith, and perhaps they could have even joined Imperial Intelligence together (that was, after all, where his brother had ended up). Dreamed of a life where he wasn’t losing patients all the time because sith cruelty injured not only body, but mind (he knew that would happen in the Empire too...he wasn’t sure when the dream shifted from his old life to something entirely unrecognizable). A life where he could save everyone who came to him, where he wasn’t pushed around by people just because they had lightsabers and he didn’t. Where people didn’t attempt to control his actions using the force. Life where he could just be Sez’egar’moasi, and not have to change himself to be effective. Where he could enjoy the opera, where he could be with his family, where his father hadn’t broken his mother’s heart and shattered everything they had, where a man with green hair was by his side-

A warm hand on his shoulder broke him out of this imaginary world, but when Picardy looked up from his spot on the ground, surrounded by medpacs, he thought perhaps it was best he was roused from his dream.

“Dad?” Diminuendo was studying him with a gaze he couldn’t quite place - perhaps it was thinly veiled concern?

“Ah, hello, Diminuendo - sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you come in,” the medic rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. This was why he hated to let himself get swept away. “It’s nice to see you,” he added after some thought, “I thought you were busy on Tython.”

“I’m supposed to be on Hoth, actually,” the jedi admitted. “...I know I’m supposed to eschew emotion, but...I could not help but be concerned for you. I had a feeling I should check on you.”

“Your concern is noted, and appreciated,” Picardy replied, standing up and smoothing out his crisp, white jacket. “But, rest assured, I am fine.”

“You don’t…” Diminuendo hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “Evidence points to the conclusion that you are indeed not fine. Ordinarily you would have heard me enter..” he frowned. “And your supplies would not be strewn across the floor. Your hair wouldn’t be as out of place as it is,” he commented, straightening out a particularly stubborn strand that was hanging in his father’s eyes. He’d never noticed how short the doctor really was - the jedi knew he practically towered over his father now, despite both of them being fairly lanky. “And you wouldn’t look so sad.”

Picardy scowled for a fleeting moment - but his expression swiftly softened, and he chuckled softly. “Figures...you jocksticks certainly are able to read emotions way too well. Or, perhaps it’s just that you’ve known me so long.” He avoided his son’s gaze. “You win - I’m not great. Physically, I am fine. Today is just one of my off days,” he murmured. “Nothing to be that concerned about, kid. Really. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking,” Diminuendo echoed, suspicious but not wanting to press too much - he knew that his father was flighty, and in true Chiss fashion he was not huge on being “mushy” with his family. He knew that Picardy was likely trying to logic his way through loneliness, as he so often did. What he wanted to say was “I wish you would open up for me. I’m here for you. Just talk to me,” but he knew he never would, because… He wasn’t supposed to be there for his father any more. He wasn’t supposed to let the love they had shared for years interfere with his training - with his becoming a jedi. He had a responsibility to the galaxy to be a protector. But he would always have a soft spot for the man who has saved his life and taken him in. The jedi rubbed his temples - he knew even being here was wrong but he couldn’t allow his father to slip into his ruminating for too long, because it never ended well. And, jedi training be darned - he was going to make sure that his dad was okay.

“Just thinking,” Picardy confirmed, interrupting the young jedi’s thoughts. “Did you need something? You’re, ah, welcome to stay on the ship, but...I’m sure you’d rather return to your duties. I’m going to continue cleaning though, of course.” Diminuendo sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“I heard you were docked on the fleet, so I decided to pay you a visit. Why don’t we go somewhere together? Even to the cantina here? You should get out more.”

The medic snorted at this. “Mm...get out more, huh? Kid, I get out plenty. I’m taking a day off.”

“To clean?”

“To tidy up my workspace.”

“I doubt it was untidy in the first place.”

Picardy rolled his eyes, calculating his chances of winning this argument. Deciding the odds were not really in his favor, he gave in. “Fine. We can go out, if that’s what you really want - but I don’t want you in trouble with your council. Being a master is your dream - don’t let me get in your way.” He smoothed out his sleeves, picking fuzz off of one idly.

“Let’s go to the cantina and unwind, then,” Diminuendo murmured, offering a tentative smile. It was bad for his father to brood in this ship all day, but he wouldn’t always be there - so he figured he should make the most of this opportunity.

“Not on the fleet,” Picardy grumbled, exiting the medbay after tucking a few medpacs into his pocket. “We can go to the Dealer’s Den, on Coruscant.” The jedi knight opted not to argue - he knew that was a place his father felt comfortable, and really, who was he disagree?

“Whatever you want, dad,” he conceded, making his way to the front of the ship as well. Yes...he was going to make today a good day… After all, it was never certain they would see each other again, they may as well enjoy the little moments like these.

* * *

 

Diminuendo stared at his father from across the table, the awkward silence between them falling like a blanket of snow. Thus far, they had exchanged only sparse words - Picardy was growing uncomfortable, he knew. “Will you just tell me what’s wrong?” He asked, clasping his hands together. He was sick of dodging the issue. The medic pursed his lips into a frown, glowering at his son.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t lie please, Dad. It just wastes both of our time.”

Picardy rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon. “Fine, I suppose I can share a portion of what is frustrating me,” he said begrudgingly, still wearing a scowl. “I…” he paused for some time, nibbling on a nail. “Am sorry you do not have a mother.”

“What?”

“You heard me the first time. I don’t wish to repeat myself.”

The jedi leaned back in his chair, processing the confusing (and in his opinion, senseless) apology. “Forgive me...I do not understand why you are apologizing.”

“You don’t have a motherly figure to raise you,” the medic explained, irritated that he had to explain at all. “And this is my fault. I am sorry. I know firsthand that oftentimes? A father is not enough.”

At this, Diminuendo could not help but chuckle. “Dad, you’ve been an excellent parent. I don’t understand, really - I’m so grateful you took me in, after finding me sneaking onto your ship.”

The other chiss ran a hand through his hair, sighing and looking away. “I feel as though I have been inadequate.”

“You haven’t been.”

“Mm…” Picardy shrugged non-committedly, resting his chin in his palm. “I should have ignored my own feelings and tried to find a woman who could be a mother for you.”

“Your own feelings…?” the young man inquired, raising a brow. “Surely, you just haven’t found the right woman, yet.” “

I’m never going to find the right woman,” the medic said pointedly, hoping his son would understand, and that he wouldn’t have to actually say what he meant.

“Never? Don’t be so hard on yourself, I’m sure she’s out there.”

 _‘I thought jedi were supposed to be smart…’_ Picardy lamented, shaking his head and looking down. “Kid…no. There’s no woman in this galaxy for me. But...I think I’ve found the right man, if you understand me.”

It all clicked in the knight’s mind, then, and he flushed red from embarrassment. “I- I apologize, Dad, I should’ve realized.”

“It’s fine.”

“So...you were apologizing for loving a man?”

“In a way, I suppose.”

“That’s stupid,” Diminuendo said, crossing his arms. “At least apologize for something that actually garners an apology.”

The medic could not help but laugh at this, not knowing why he expected anything different. “Fair enough. How about this...I’m sorry you’ve never met your uncle, or your grandparents.” “

My grandparents are dead, don’t apologize for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps not. I should have been able to help my father,” Picardy chewed on his lip. “Though...I wasn’t the one okay with death at the time - he was.”

“Again - not your fault. Anyhow…” the jedi looked at his father expectantly. “I have an uncle?”

“My brother.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Never.”

“Fair enough…” the medic smiled faintly at his son, enjoying their banter. “His name is Mist’anith, and he works for Imperial Intelligence. I have not attempted to reach out...I’m wanted by the Empire, I don’t think it would work out.”

“Likely not,” Diminuendo nodded, looking thoughtful. “Fascinating...perhaps one day I will get to meet him. For now, though…” he cast his father a concerned glance. “Work on taking care of yourself, Dad. I have to go - I can take a shuttle to Hoth. But please, please...take care of yourself. I worry.”

“I always do,” Picardy mumbled, pursing his lips again. “Please, don’t worry on my account. Focus on your training. You’ve got plenty of work ahead of you.” He stood, clasping his son’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. “I...take care of yourself as well, kid,” he said softly, and with that, he was gone.

“Love you too, Dad,” Diminuendo said to the empty table, and he sighed. He hoped that this had helped his father...and perhaps it had, just a little bit. He stood, smoothing out his jacket - one Picardy had bestowed to him many years before. Even now, it was a great source of comfort... he vaguely wandered if the doctor had even noticed the small sign of sentiment.

* * *

Naturally, Picardy returned to cleaning out his medbay - in a considerably better mood, for the most part. He had at least come out to someone - sure, the one person in the galaxy he pretty much knew he would be accepted by, but surely it counted for something. He sat on one of the hospital beds once he finished, shedding his heavy jacket and allowing himself a moment to reflect on the day, the past, and a future that was full of confusion, but maybe a sliver of hope. He decided to visit an old friend tomorrow. Others would likely expect him to refer to this friend as the man of his dreams, but of course - that would be if he allowed himself to dream of the impossible anymore. He’d certainly done enough of it recently - no more dreaming, only reality. Certainly no dreaming of green hair and subtle gestures of affection… Definitely not that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I'm posting any of my swtor works publicly...oh boy.
> 
> I'm sorry if there's any inaccuracies, I tried to stay as true to lore but also as true to my own characters as I could.
> 
> This was originally written for some guild trials, but I'm no longer in that guild so I figure I may as well start using those stories again, since I love these characters!
> 
> P.S. I made Picardy/Sezz'egar'moasi an Inrokini in 2015, long before they became enemies in 5.6. Lowkey want to change it now, but also angst opportunities...it's a tough choice.


End file.
